


Color Commentary

by rhysiana



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actual Baseball Talk But Hopefully Not Too Much, Alternate Universe - College/University, Baseball Player Derek, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Sports Commentator Stiles, Yes This Is A Kissing Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10547260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysiana/pseuds/rhysiana
Summary: Stiles is a sports broadcasting major at Beacon Hills University, where Derek is a star of the baseball team. When Stiles offers to switch positions with Erica and take sideline reporting for the day, he may get more out of the post-game interview than he expected.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I so wanted to have this done by Opening Day, but instead I, uh, got distracted by actually watching baseball. Whoops! It was all in the name of research, I swear.
> 
> Many thanks to annundriel for suggesting plays and helping me headcanon all the characters' baseball positions!

“Lahey, call. Stilinski, color. Reyes, sideline.”

Erica sat up straight in her chair, outraged. “But Professor Harris! You said I would be in the booth this time!”

“Next time, Reyes. Suck it up. Those are your assignments. Now go.”

She sat back with a huff. “That’s what you said last time,” she muttered. “It’s not like we even do televised games that often. How many next times does he think there are going to be? We’re gonna graduate before I ever get assigned to the booth. I should report him to the dean.”

“You should,” Stiles agreed, leaning over from the seat, “but you can also just switch with me.”

“Yeah?” she said, surprised.

“Yeah,” he said with a grin. “You’re right, he’s a sexist asshole, so fuck ’im, we’ll take this into our own hands. You have to call from the booth sometime. I say it’s tomorrow.”

Isaac twisted around from his seat in the row below them, looking worried. “Stiles, don’t throw me under the bus this way. You know I suck at color.”

Stiles waved a dismissive hand. “No, no, Erica’s got it. Just let her call slightly more than you usually would me. You know these distinctions don’t mean much anyway. We’ve got to have each other’s backs here, since Harris clearly never will.”

“Thanks, guys,” Erica said, looking significantly less stressed than she had a few minutes ago. “Seriously, I appreciate it.”

“’Course,” Stiles shrugged. “It’s our practicum class, and I, for one, am determined to see we actually get a worthwhile experience out of it.” He stood and slung his messenger bag on. “See you both tomorrow!”

***

Derek was bent over retying his shoe when Jackson came strutting back into the locker room.

“Gonna be a tough game for you today, Hale,” he said, smirking (although that wasn’t unusual.)

Derek frowned at him and straightened up. “Why? I didn’t see a change in the other team's roster or anything…”

“Oh, no,” Jackson said slyly, “you’re just going to be really distracted.”

Boyd rolled his eyes. “Knock it off, Jackson.”

Jackson blinked innocently a few times. “So I _shouldn’t_ warn him that Stiles is covering sideline today?”

Derek’s foot slipped off the bench, and he used catching himself as an excuse to avoid having to respond.

“Jackson, grab your mask and let’s _go_!” Danny called, coming in. He took in the scene quickly and rolled his eyes. “Oh, you told him.” He grabbed Jackson around the neck and gave him a noogie. “Why do you always have to be such a dick, huh?”

Jackson pushed him off. “Not the hair!” He stalked over to the sinks to try to fix it in the mirror, then grabbed his mask and exited in a huff.

Danny paused before following him and smiled at Derek. “Ignore him, honestly. Just play like you always do and everything will be fine.” He waved over his shoulder on the way out.

Derek glared down at his feet, trying to get his head back into the game. Boyd’s hand came down on his shoulder, a comforting weight. “They don’t really think you’ll be off your game because of Stiles. Jackson just can’t resist poking things.”

Derek straightened his shoulders and shook it off. He seriously regretted the day his teammates had figured out his crush, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it now. They had a game to win.

***

Stiles leaned over the railing above the dugout and waved. “Hey, guys, got a minute for me?”

“Why, Erica, you’ve changed,” Jackson snarked.

“She’s in the booth today so I can finally work on my tan,” Stiles responded, turning his attention to Danny. “How’s the arm, Danny? Gonna get a shutout today?”

Danny grinned and winked. “That’s always the hope.”

“Anything you all want us to keep an eye on today? Plays you’ve been working on particularly in practice?”

“Just keep your eye on second base,” Jackson said, before Danny hooked a hand through the strap of his chest protector and yanked him away.

It wasn’t like it took a lot to get Stiles to pay attention to Derek Hale, but Jackson was clearly trying to get some sort of response, so he settled for calling after them, “I’ll be keeping an eye on the whole field, thank you very much!”

“Good to know you’ll be doing your job then,” said a dry voice behind him, and he turned quickly, catching himself on the railing again, to see Derek and Boyd.

“Well, I know I’m no Erica, Boyd, but I will do my best.” Boyd just grinned at him and then shaded his eyes as he tried to catch sight of her up in the booth.

“You’re not calling today?” Derek asked.

Stiles blinked, a little surprised Derek even knew who he was, let alone that he was usually one of the people in the booth. Erica did most of the post-game interviews, and Isaac did surprisingly well with one-on-ones, so Stiles usually let them do it. He generally talked so much during the course of a game, he figured the possibly five people tuned into their campus radio or, rarely, campus TV coverage would be sick of him by then. “Well, I mean, I still am. We just traded positions around because Professor Harris was being a jackass, but realistically there’s not that much difference.” He cut himself off before he descended into full-on babbling. “Anyway,” he said brightly, “how do you guys feel about our chances today?”

Derek and Boyd traded glances, and then Derek shrugged. “Should be fine. We’ve beaten them before.”

“That you have.” Stiles bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from launching into a full statistical rundown of every previous match-up between these two teams for the past two seasons. He slapped his hands down on the railing instead and pushed himself back. “Well, good luck! I know you’ll be great. Uh, both of you.”

The look Boyd shot him was knowing, and Stiles prayed Derek didn’t notice. Erica must have spilled about his crush. Oh well. He was sure Derek’s teammates were used to it. He made his way back to the sideline desk and turned his attention to getting set up: laptop, scorecard, and a notebook full of his personal player notes in his slightly messy scrawl. He put on his headset and settled back to enjoy the sun.

***

“Hello, BHU, and welcome to another great day of baseball. We’ve got one of our rare televised games today, so if you’ve tuned in for our normal radio broadcast, you may want to make your way to a TV." Isaac smiled a little and waved at the camera. “A recording will also be available on the sports broadcasting department’s online video archive. We’re shaking things up a little here, so I’m joined in the booth today by Erica Reyes, while Stiles covers things for us down by the field.”

“How’s the weather down there, Stiles?” Erica asked.

Stiles leaned back in his seat and stretched obnoxiously, hands behind his head. “Perfect,” he said to the stationary camera sitting next to him. “Sunny and 75, with a light breeze. I like it down here. I don’t think I’m going to let you have your spot back.”

She laughed. “I hope you remembered sunscreen.”

“Uh…” Stiles let his eyes go comically wide, rather than wincing the way he wanted to. Whoops.

“Today’s game sees our Wolfpack taking on the Antioch Albatrosses,” Isaac cut in, because he, at least, never let teasing Stiles distract from what they were actually supposed to be doing.

“That’s right, Isaac, and when I spoke to some of the guys before the game, they seemed confident. Second baseman Derek Hale noted that they’ve done well against the Albatrosses in the past.”

“Today’s starting pitcher is Danny Mahealani,” Erica put in smoothly as Danny jogged out to take the mound, and then ran down the lineups for both teams.

Stiles felt them settling into their usual rhythm and relaxed. Even Isaac seemed calm now. They had this.

***

The first five innings passed without a hitch, but also without much excitement. Stiles tried to restrain himself to only contributing his usual random facts and painstakingly compiled statistics when they actually related to things Erica brought up first, which was kind of relaxing.

Then BHU finally, _finally_ got a runner on third.

“Up at bat now we’ve got Jackson Whittemore, sophomore catcher. It looks like Finstock has asked him to bunt to try to advance this runner. And…” Isaac trailed off a bit as Jackson flinched and missed, “it looks like he’s not super comfortable with that, though to be fair it’s not something he’s done much of this season.”

“Some hitters are just not comfortable bunting,” Erica commented. “Understandably so, given how close it puts you to being right in the path of the ball. It can often be a better idea to just have them try to hit a ground ball to the right side, since it’ll achieve the same purpose. Certainly that’s the mentality the major leagues seem to be using now.”

Jackson missed again, and Stiles could see him getting visibly annoyed.

“So it’s two and one now—” Isaac said, “and he’s swinging away! High and deep to left!”

“That ball is crushed! It is long gone!” Erica crowed.

“Guess he shouldn’t be bunting in those situations, huh?” Stiles said cheerfully. He wondered if he could flag down Finstock for a post-game interview and ask him about it. Riling Coach always made for good entertainment, though not always officially archivable.

“And with those two runs brought in, we’ve got a whole new game.”

***

The Albatrosses tried their hardest to tie it up, but didn’t manage anything until the seventh inning. They now had a man on first, and their next batter was supposed to be strong.

Danny clearly didn’t care. His first two pitches had been easy strikes, and now the runner on first was getting antsy. Danny caught his move to try to steal second and aborted his next pitch to throw to Boyd at first. The runner quickly threw himself back on base. Boyd bared his teeth at him and tossed the ball back to Danny.

Danny caught the ball, looked down briefly to recenter himself, and then looked at Jackson for the call. He threw.

The strike smacked neatly into Jackson’s glove and then he was popping up, even as the umpire called the out, ball in hand. Danny ducked down as Jackson threw straight over his head to Derek at second, the first base runner having decided to try to steal again.

Derek caught the ball and neatly tagged the guy out as he tried to slide in.

Stiles was on his feet, mic off, cheering at the top of his lungs.

“A strike ’em out, throw ’em out double play!” Isaac exclaimed. “We don’t get to see many of those.”

Stiles sat back down hastily to look up how often it actually happened.

“And a magnificent example it was, Isaac,” Erica commented, giving Stiles a few more seconds. “Excellent teamwork between Whittemore and Hale there.”

“True facts, Erica,” Stiles said. “We can, in fact, count on one hand the number of times this happened last season. Good thing that particular play of beauty was caught on camera this time. Think it’ll convince the department to make this a more frequent occurrence?” Stiles smiled cheekily at his camera, but he was practically vibrating in his seat. Forget interviewing Coach Finstock, he was getting _Derek_.

***

The Wolfpack won, 2-0. Stiles grabbed the interview microphone and scrambled to the edge of the field, student cameraman in tow.

“Excellent work today, Danny,” Stiles said, and Danny, flirt that he was and entirely aware of the camera, flashed him his most charming smile.

“Thanks, Stiles.”

“That was a nearly 120-pitch game for you, though; your arm feeling all right?”

Danny rotated it instinctively. “Yup, still feeling good. I won’t say I wasn’t happy to get relieved after the seventh inning, but it definitely didn’t feel like too much for me. Gotta go ice it, though, so I’ll catch you later!”

“Thanks, Danny! And now, our other two stars of the game,” Stiles said, turning back to catch Jackson and Derek before they could sneak by. Not that that was likely in Jackson’s case. Stiles decided to start with him. “So, Jackson. It didn’t look like you were too happy with that call for you to bunt.”

Jackson’s eyes narrowed and Stiles grinned as he tried to come up with a retort fit for public consumption.

Stiles didn’t leave him hanging long. “That frustration must have worked in our favor, though, because you sure did smash that home run in the end.”

Jackson attempted to look modest and failed. “Yeah, well, the point was to get our runner on third around to home, so when I saw the opportunity, I knew I was supposed to bat right, but I took it. Two runs are better than one, right?”

“Absolutely.” Jackson was looking entirely too smug now, so Stiles continued sweetly, “And what do you have to say to those fans who may express surprise that our catcher could make such a big hit?”

Jackson flushed. “I’d invite them to—” Derek whacked him on the shoulder with his glove. “To, ah, look at Buster Posey and maybe rethink some of those infield stereotypes.”

“An excellent point. And it’s not like your batting prowess is all people should be focused on! Let’s talk about that double play.”

Jackson was preening again. Derek looked like he was vacillating between feeling proud and wishing he could disappear. “That was a great tag, Derek. How’d it feel?”

Derek ducked his head. “Well, I mean, he’d already tried to steal once, so we knew to be looking for it. I was just doing my part for the team.”

“By being one of the best starting second basemen in the D-I?” Stiles said in mock surprise. “Yeah, I’d say you were doing your part.”

Derek looked down again, his ears going red. God, there was a reason Stiles wasn’t allowed to do interviews most of the time. The cameraman made a “wrap it up” signal, to Stiles’ relief.

“Anyway, guys, I’ll let you get back to the locker room now, but thanks for a great game!”

“Thank you, Stiles,” Derek said, looking straight at him for a second before heading in.

The camera switched off and Stiles swallowed. That had felt weirdly like a moment. Had he just had a moment with Derek Hale? He wound up the microphone cord and handed it to cameraman on autopilot before he headed back up to the sideline desk to grab all his stuff.

Erica was already there, sitting on the desk and swinging her feet back and forth. “Didn’t want anyone to steal your laptop. You’ve got more team trivia in that thing than the stats department.”

Stiles snorted.

She shrugged. “I’m actually just waiting for Boyd.”

“I figured.” Stiles starting stuffing all his things back in his bag. “Hey, um, did you tell Boyd about my hopeless crush on Derek?”

“No, why would I? You’re never going to do anything about it.”

“Harsh, Reyes, very harsh.”

“The truth hurts, Stilinski. Unless you’re planning to get your shit together…” she trailed off suggestively.

“As if. There is less chance Derek Hale would want to go out with me than that they’ll make a triple play next game.”

Erica rolled her eyes at him and stood. “Whatever. You don’t give yourself enough credit, but I’m not gonna force you.”

“Hey, babe, you ready to go?” Boyd called from below, poking his head out of the dugout.

“Yup, coming!”

Stiles slung his messenger bag across his chest and walked down with her. Having successfully navigated the stairs like a grown-up, he managed to trip over nothing at all when he realized Derek was waiting with Boyd.

Erica, the traitor, just laughed at him and grabbed Boyd’s arm, tugging him away. “See you later, Stiles!” she called back over her shoulder.

Stiles hitched his bag back up on his shoulder unnecessarily. “Uh, hey, Derek.”

“Hey.”

“It really was a great game,” Stiles told him earnestly. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you during the interview. I was maybe a little too focused on needling Jackson.”

At which Derek _smiled_. An honest-to-god, unforced, genuinely happy smile. Stiles wondered where all the air had suddenly gone, because there certainly wasn't any in his lungs anymore.

“He deserves it,” Derek said. “He was giving me crap before the game, too.”

“Yeah? About what?” Stiles paused and then waved a hand in front of his face, backpedaling frantically. “Oh, shit, I mean, you don’t have to tell me about what, obviously! Sometimes I swear my mouth just says things without checking with my brain first.”

Derek was laughing at him now. He was. “No, no, it’s… it’s okay. I really should probably tell you, since it’s about you anyway.”

“About… me?” Stiles spluttered. “I didn’t even think you really knew who I was.”

Derek looked up, clearly surprised. “Seriously? Believe me, I know who you are.” He pressed his lips together and looked to the side, for all the world like he was steeling himself for something. “You remember last season when I was injured?”

Stiles nodded, not trusting himself to talk for fear his mouth would take off again.

“My PT flat out forbade me from going to practice or games for a month, because she knew I’d do something without thinking and reinjure myself. So I had to sit in my dorm during games and… and listen to you.” Derek looked down again, and now Stiles saw he wasn’t so much embarrassed as shy. “You’re great at it, you know? At always coming up with interesting things to say between plays. I probably learned more college history in that month than it ever would have occurred to me to ever look up. And all the stories you tell are so funny! I could… I could listen to you talk all day,” he said in a rush.

For once in his life, Stiles was speechless.

Derek hurried on. “Anyway, that’s what Jackson was giving me shit about. He said I was going to be distracted all game because you were in the sidelines instead of Erica. They all know about my crush. I guess there were only so many times I could say ‘Stiles said’ after games before they figured something out.”

Stiles tried to kick his brain back online. “You. Have a crush. On me.”

Derek looked mildly confused. “Uh, yeah?”

“No, I’m just making sure. You, Derek Hale, baseball god of Beacon Hills University, have a crush on me, Stiles Stilinski, the annoying guy who won’t shut up?”

Derek’s gaze sharpened and he stepped forward, crowding Stiles against the front wall of the dugout. “I think you mean ‘distractingly good-looking guy with the expressive hands and the most fascinating mind I’ve ever met.’”

“Oh,” Stiles said faintly. “Is that what I meant? Silly me.” Derek was now standing so close, Stiles’ words were whispering across Derek’s own lips. “I’ll have to remember that in the future.”

“Would you like some help cementing it in your memory?” Derek murmured, resting his hands on the wall on either side of Stiles’ hips.

“I would.”

And then Derek Hale was kissing him. It was even better than Stiles had dreamed, (and he had dreamed about it, yes, and just plain thought about it, extensively,) because Derek’s lips were soft and tentative, like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening either, and Stiles never wanted to leave this moment, not ever.

A wolf whistle pierced the air behind them. “Finally nutted up, I see, huh, Hale?”

Derek broke the kiss just long enough to extend an arm behind him and flip Jackson the bird. “Fuck off, Jackson. I’m busy.”

Stiles peeked over Derek’s shoulder and grinned when he saw Danny dragging Jackson away again.

“Get it, Hale!” Danny called.

Stiles grinned and refocused on Derek. “Yeah, get it, Hale.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Derek replied, and kissed him again.

***

Stiles offered to switch with Erica again for the next game, but she refused for the good of the team. It was entirely too likely that Derek really would be distracted this time.

“And aren’t we supposed to be expecting a triple play?” she asked, not the least bit innocent.

Stiles shoved her out of her chair.

**Author's Note:**

> Research notes, because I'm that kind of nerd:  
> -The Wolfpack is actually the team name at NC State, but I couldn't resist using it for BHU. The Antioch Albatrosses are completely made up.  
> -I have probably taken massive liberties with the idea of Stiles, Erica, and Isaac's practicum class, but I figured I could do what I wanted at a made up university anyway. The program at Penn State really does have a sports broadcasting student video archive, though, if you want to go down that particular rabbit hole of college sports coverage.  
> -Sideline reporting in baseball isn't nearly as sexist as it is in other sports; there's really very little difference in what the various members of a commentary team do during a game, since they're all basically just having a conversation about what's happening on the field. But the initial premise worked better for me if Harris was a massive jerk about it. The color commentator really does talk _a lot_ though. I maintain this would be a great job for Stiles.  
>  -Have you read [this interview with Tyler Hoechlin](http://www.empireonline.com/movies/features/teen-wolf-superman-depth-tyler-hoechlin/) in which he talks about how serious he was about his baseball career at the same time he was acting, until he finally had to choose in college? Honestly, I cry: "I got to know my last seventy-two hours [of baseball] were my last seventy-two, and I got to really enjoy those. I still cried like a baby after that last game. Spent an extra hour and half in the locker room that I probably didn't need to, but yeah, it was a good close."  
> -I _really_ wanted to make BHU a D-II school because their championships are in Cary, NC, but I finally had to admit to myself that it was unlikely a D-II school would have a big sports broadcasting program as well. But you don't understand the anguish I caused myself by not including this tiny, irrelevant detail that would only have been an in-joke with myself.  
>  -And finally, if you're not following Leslie_Knope's pro baseball Derek fic [The Payoff Pitch](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9621980/chapters/21738410), you need to be! It's so good!
> 
> ETA:  
> -I forgot to link to a video of what a strike 'em out, throw 'em out double play looks like! [See here!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szhkOx2OE3w) It's fun.  
> -Also, I keep forgetting to add a link to [my tumblr](https://rhysiana.tumblr.com/) at the end of things.


End file.
